I Was Saved... by the Jerkface

Phone Call

I was jerked awake suddenly by a very enthusiastic Blake Harold. I had been lying peacefully in my bed, having a very confusing but blissful dream. He just had to ruin it by coming in my room - not even bothering to be quiet - and jumping on my bed.

I let out a groggy yelp as I was pulled from the realm of sleep. Apparently now that I was awake, Blake took that as his cue to jump on top of me. He rolled over like a big two-year-old and laid his body fully on mine.

"Blake," I gasped beneath his crushing weight. "Can't... breathe!" My hands pushed with all their might against his solid chest, struggling to get free, but to no avail. He was simply too heavy.

He obviously knew I was no match for him, because the bastard started laughing at my misery. I felt his muscular abdomen shake on top of me, only seeming to make him heavier. Any other time I would've marveled at how hot that laugh was, but not now.

I was to the point of nearly seeing stars from lack of breath, when he finally got off of me, rolling to my other side and observing me casually while I took in massive amounts of air.

"Jeesh, I didn't think I was that heavy," he teased me, cracking one of his trademark smiles.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked incredulously, still not fully recovered. "You're like a freaking elephant!"

Blake clapped a hand over his heart dramatically and an expression of mock hurt claimed his blue/green eyes. The only thing that ruined his little act was the smug smile that seemed glued to his face. "Are you calling me fat?" he asked in a fake girl voice.

I threw my head back and laughed extremely hard. I didn't think I'd laughed that hard in a long time. "Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't," I managed to reply in between random giggles.

"Well then!" he continued on his little rant, not dropping his dramatic facade. "I guess if I'm fat I can't eat the marvelous breakfast I just cooked for us both! I'll just go throw it all out..." He trailed off, heaving himself up from the bed and going towards the door.

I gasped, not having known he'd cooked breakfast. His food was always so good. I didn't care if he was kidding or not about throwing it out, I just wanted to get to the food and fast.

"Out of my way!" I yelled sort of like a war-cry, shoving past him in my haste to get to the kitchen. Blake apparently took that as a challenge of some sort, because he came up behind me while I was clumsily running towards the smell of yummy bacon and wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me off the ground.

I squealed, kicking in his arms. "Let me - go!" I huffed, tugging at his hands.

"No can do, princess," he chuckled from behind me, breathing down my neck. He didn't seem phased at all by my kicking and screaming. In fact, he acted as if he was picking up Cookie instead of a hundred-twenty-five pound Annabelle.

After about two minutes of me struggling and him laughing at me, I finally gave up, rolling my head back so that it rested on his shoulder from behind, my feet still not on the ground.

"Are you finished?" Blake asked conversationally, and I nodded, smiling to myself. As much as I'd struggled with him in the minutes before, that was just because I wanted to eat whatever amazing breakfast he'd cooked up. I actually liked the feeling of his toned, muscular arms around me, enveloping me in his strong embrace. Never mind the fact that I was slightly bent backwards at an uncomfortable angle.

Blake set me down, and I immediately took the liberty of kicking him in the shin as hard as I could. He doubled over, clutching his leg, and before he had a chance to realize what I'd done I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a plate.